


Sharing Recipes

by fortune_cookie



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkward Flirting, Chance Meetings, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-04-30 22:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortune_cookie/pseuds/fortune_cookie
Summary: Sam works at an overpriced kitchen store, but loves it. He also loves meeting a new customer, a pretty guy who can't cook to save his life.I love this pairing, but I've kind of exhausted the current supply of fic for Sam/Bucky. So, here we go!





	1. The Wicked Fig

Two hours. Just two hours until the end of his shift.

Sam always found the final stretch to be the most difficult. Four or six-hour shifts were practically nothing, but those eight and nine-hour ones really made him wish he worked in anything other than customer service. When there weren't customers in the store, like right now, Sam preferred to lean on the tall silver trash bin, or to sit on the huge Kitchenaid box propped up against the shelf full of drip coffee makers. Even a chair by the cash register would have been fine, somewhere he could sit and rest his aching feet for just a few minutes.

As though reading his thoughts, Natasha piped up, "Hey, get up! Someone's coming."

Indeed, barely a moment after speaking, Nat turned her head toward the door. Sam could hear the bell hanging from the door handle jingle. He stood up from his perch on the trash bin, groaning and barely managing to plaster a smile on his face before the customer saw him. And, damn was he glad he'd done so.

Most of The Wicked Fig's customers were older ladies looking to add another $300 glazed enamel cast-iron stock pot to their already extensive collections. Every year or so, the company would release their pots and pans in a "new" limited release color that almost identical to an old limited release color. Wait long enough, and people would forget about anything it seemed.

The customer who'd just entered was absolutely not an old lady. Rather, he looked like the sort of person who had others cook for him, and probably kept a kitchen full of expensive, top of the line appliances around just for show. Sam tried not to stare, but found his gaze drawn to the man's fitted, slate gray suit; soft, dark hair; and a face and body that would have put any professional model to shame. Sam was so busy staring, he didn't realize the man was trying to get his attention.

 

"Hey, you okay there?" the man asked.

No, he wanted to reply. Please send help. 

"Sorry about that! I guess I spaced out for a second."

The man's laugh was as pretty as the rest of him. "Slow day?"

Sam nodded, "Yep. You're probably our third or fourth customer and it's already pretty late." The man laughed again, although Sam didn't think he'd said anything particularly funny. 

"So," Sam said, shifting into professional mode. "Welcome to The Wicked Fig, Mr.--" 

"James. James Barnes," the man replied, adding with a smile that Sam should "call me Bucky!"

"Bucky, it is. Have you shopped with us before? We're having our utensil sale right now, and everything that's our brand is half off." 

"Sure, Sam," Bucky said, reading Sam's name tag. "I'm actually looking for a few things. You guys sell ingredients, right? Like fancy salt."

Sam stifled a laugh. Fancy salt, right.

"Yep! We have baking and cooking ingredients, mixes, and a few really great cookbooks if that's your thing."

"You guys have cookbooks?" He looked excited at the prospect, his eyes lighting up. "Do you have any recommendations?"

Oh, this was one of the best parts of Sam's job. He loved talking to customers and learning their preferences. It was truly fun chatting about new recipes and old favorites.

"Hmm. That depends! What sort of cuisine do you look? Do you like spicy food? Are you cooking for a special occasion?"

Bucky grinned, leaning a little closer over the counter.

"That's a lot of questions, Sam."

"Yeah, sorry. You just have a lot of options, and I kind of need to narrow it down."

"I understand. Hope I'm not making your job too tough."

"No, of course not"

"Good. I'm trying to plan a welcome home dinner for my best friend. He's not a picky eater or anything, but that just makes it harder to choose something good. He'll eat almost anything."

 

That really didn't help to narrow things down, but it was a start. He could have used Natasha's help, but when he looked back she was busy talking to a customer on the phone in the back of the store. Great.

"Well, are you sure you want a cookbook? If you can think of a dish, I might be able to come up with a recipe and I can hunt down the ingredients to make it."

"Are you some kind of chef, then?"

"Not professionally. I like to cook in my free time. I'm trying to write my own cookbook, actually. Less recipe-based and more like a guideline for creating your own dishes."

 He paused, feeling a little embarrassed at having talked so much, but the guy looked interested, like he was waiting for Sam to continue. So, he did.

"I don't know how you feel about vegetarian food, but that's how 'The Simple Art of Vegetarian Cooking' works. The author gives you some base recipes, guidelines, and templates to expand on that, but she really just gives the reader room to experiment and create their own meals. It's kind of ridiculously practical," he explained.

"It's not exactly a new concept, but I want to expand it to all sorts of cuisine. Like a book full of base recipes and suggestions for how to expand on them and make a really healthy and delicious meal. Right now, I'm looking into different variations of the sort of American classic: some sort of protein like chicken, beef, or fish, a vegetable and a starch. It's kind of neat because the possibilities are endless. You could make roast chicken, wild rice, and mushrooms for a simple meal, or combine the ingredients into something more complicated. I'm a big fan of risotto, so that's a suggestion."

 When Bucky didn't respond, Sam added, "Sorry! When I get started talking about it, it's hard to stop."

Bucky waved away Sam's concern with a literal wave of his hand.

 "No problem. It sounds like the sort of book I'd buy, so you'll have to let me know when you finish it. I've been trying to cook more for myself, but I'm not so great. Too many days eating Burger King and ordering takeout, I guess."

Sam couldn't even picture him eating a hamburger at a sit-down restaurant, let alone a fast food joint.

 "What?" he mock exclaimed. "Burger King? If you like burgers and fries, Five Guys is way better."

"That rhymed," Bucky pointed out with a smile. "I've never been to Five Guys."

"They're a little expensive, but you can put basically any topping on your burger. I think they have twenty or so."

"Well, anyway! Let's find you a cookbook. We have one or two that are really good starting points. Seven Spoons is great. The recipes aren't difficult to make, but the end result looks and sounds pretty impressive. I also like 'Dining In.' The writer says she's focused on 'vegetable-forward' recipes, which might sound a little silly, but she does do a great job of creating balanced dishes."

"Actually, some of her recipe names are funny too. Like, she has one called 'Why are you always asking me to toast my nuts?' I know having funny names doesn't make a recipe better, but I tend to prefer cooks with a sense of humor. You know they really enjoyed the work they put into their recipes, right?"

Bucky nodded. "Both of those sound good. Mind if I take a look?"

"Not at all!"

Sam pulled both books and placed them on the counter along with a book full of dessert recipes. After some deliberation, and still absolutely no other customers stopping by, Sam had managed to talk Bucky into buying three books and they'd hammered out the major details of Bucky's friend's homecoming dinner.

 

Sam almost felt disappointed as he rang the items up and watched Bucky swipe his credit card. He'd never seen the man in the store before, and he doubted he'd see him again. After all, he was just shopping for a special occasion. So, it surprised him more than a little when Bucky pulled a small black business card and handed it to Sam.

"Text me," Bucky told him. "Well, you don't have to, unless you want to come to my party, which I'm inviting you to. Right, uh, now."

Sam turned the business card over in his hands, making note of the complete lack of job title or any information other than Bucky's name and phone number.

"Are you inviting me to your buddy's party?"

"I am. I realize maybe that's a little weird, but you've been a huge help and I'd love to thank you."

Sam shook his head. "You really don't have to invite me to anything. I had a great time talking to you, helping out."

"Well, think about it. My friend's coming back around the end of May. Text me if you decide to come, and I'll send you the details."

Was this (beautiful, fascinating) guy really inviting Sam over to his house for a party? Strangers didn't just ask Sam out, but here was Bucky apparently doing just that. So, he smiled and carefully pocketed the card.

"I'll think about it, okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly based on the fact that I worked in a kitchen store and always imagined how cute it would be to get AU Sam teaching Bucky about cooking for himself.
> 
> Please consider checking out the cookbooks mentioned in the story! They're two of my favorites at the moment. I'm also always, always open to recipes and recommendations.
> 
> Also, apologies for any errors, particularly formatting ones, or repetition of words. I don't have a beta, so it was only edited by me.


	2. An Improper Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Sam is an awkward bean and Bucky is not the best cook.
> 
> (Sorry for taking so long to update! I’m a chronic procrastinator, but I wanted to post a little something so you knew the fic was still being updated. I have most of the next chapter written, so no worries there.)

It starts with a selfie. Sam rarely enjoyed taking photos of himself, but when Bucky sent him a text asking "what's up?", he felt the odd and overwhelming urge to respond with a picture.

He felt pretty good about his appearance that day. He'd had an interview for a job in his field earlier in the day and was still wearing the suit Nat chose for him. It looked good: a deep, rich purple that made for perfect contrast against the vibrant pastel lavender of his shirt. He snapped a picture of himself leaning against the kitchen counter where he'd been unboxing his lunch, takeout from the best goddamn taco joint in the world. (District Taco, of course)

The minutes between sending a text and receiving a response always made him anxious. What if he'd said the wrong thing, or wrongly guessed the other person's intent?

Lucky for him, Bucky didn't take long to text back. He sent some sort of emoji-- the smiley one that appeared to be blushing. Before Sam could figure out what that meant, or why it made warmth radiate from the pit of his stomach, he recieved another text stating that Bucky thought he looked "swell."

Swell. Who talked like that, aside from old men? Sam laughed. Bucky seemed to harbor an unusual fondness for out-of-date slang. It was cute.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"So, I really, really hate to ask this, but I don't have anyone else who could help. Are you free right now?"

Sam frowned at his phone. He and Bucky had been texting back in forth in the two weeks since they'd met. It was nice. He was usually pretty bad about responding to texts, but something about Bucky interested him. Sam found himself constantly glancing at his phone to check for any messages. 

"Yep, I should be free. Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly. Sorry, I realize this is kind of weird, but... Well, look at this."

"What's weird?"

Then, Bucky didn't respond. Sam stared at the little moving dots on his screen that meant he was typing. Sam waited, and waited, but the dots just stayed there without any sort of response from Bucky. 

Well, that wasn't weird at all.

Sam didn't like to text, not if he could help it. If he was texting anyone, it was his family or a few old friends. It took to long; calling was easier. Despite this, he found himself eager to respond when Bucky first sent him a text. He'd texted to thank Sam for his help at the store, and to give him the address to his home and the time/date for his party. Somehow, their conversation hadn't stopped. Sam learned that Bucky worked with computers. When Sam pressed him about his work, Bucky gave him a vague reply about working in cyber security. He had moved only a few years ago to the DC/Maryland/Virginia area where most of his friends already worked. 

Customers didn't usually make for great friends. Most were friendly, of course, but not really interested in getting to know the person counting their change. Some came in just to chat, share recipes or samples of their cooking projects, but most were just there to shop. Bucky was different. He asked questions about Sam, about his interests and his family. He was cute and smart, and the silly photos of birds and dogs he sent always made Sam laugh.

A few times, he sent Sam selfies. Sam had never really understood the point, but he wasn't going to complain. It was honestly just nice to see Bucky's face, to have a small portion of his attention. It tugged at Sam's heart, made his face warm and his chest tight. 

Finally, he received a response. It must have been a photo of Bucky's kitchen. Even such a small glimpse told Sam that Bucky's house must have been very expensive. Latticed cupboards made of faded teakwood lined the wall above a sleek brushed steel stove. Although Sam preferred cast iron, he still felt impressed at the sight of a full 10-piece set of copper cookware decorating the wall. Had any of those pots ever been used, he wondered?

It seemed not. Looking at the stove, Sam saw two stainless steel pots and a ceramic coated frying pan. One of the pots was boiling over in the picture and whatever was in the pan had burnt to a black crisp.

Before Sam could text back, Bucky added: "I understand if you aren't interested, but... do you think you could come over? I'm trying to do a test run of these recipes, and it's pretty rough."

The party was in two days. Sam knew what he had to do.

"What's your address again? I'm on my way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who does this guy think he is, texting Sam and making him hot under the collar? Gosh!


End file.
